Tiger Lillie (25 page)

23

Lillie

Mom’s asleep, Gordon’s busy in his studio, and only Daddy and I sit in the kitchen drinking our warmed milk.

I take a sip. “We get to see her tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Scared, Daddy?”

“Yeah, of what I’ll say to my son-in-law, the arsonist.”

“Me too. I guess I’m glad I’ll just be too preoccupied with myself. That’s okay, right?”

“Of course. Your wedding day only comes once. We hope.” He winks his wink. “Hopefully the circumstances will be enough to staple my mouth shut.”

I hope so too. I picture a bride in white, cursing profusely at someone, and it sure isn’t pretty.

“So, how do you like the computer setup Gordon had installed, Daddy? Did you ever think you’d be able to talk your stuff right into a computer?”

“No. It’s making this book a whole lot easier, that’s for sure, honey.”

Daddy returned to us after the fire. I don’t know why and I’m afraid to ask, because I might set him back. It probably has something to do with realizing the fragility of our existence, of not letting someone else steal the life from you. Maybe. Who knows? If he wants to talk about it he will.

“So, how’s your pastor-detective doing these days?”

“Oh, he’s gotten himself into a pickle with the Magillicutty sisters.”

“I should say!”

I enjoy hearing about this cozy mystery. Dad’s fashioned his own town on the Eastern Shore inhabited by eccentric people, many of them Hungarian in descent. Write what you know, right? Truthfully, the writing isn’t as good as either he or I thought it would be, but I just tell him, “It’s a first draft, Daddy, and you’re speaking it! Surely that’s an entirely different brain function than writing.”

“I sure hope so. Unfortunately, it’s all I’ve got.”

“I mean, Henry James wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

He laughs. “But Somerset Maugham would have.”

“Here, here.”

The kitchen is almost remodeled, the contractors working overtime. The bedroom suite Gordon and I will share—once three bedrooms but now a large bedroom, a massive bath, dressing room, and a sitting room—is done. Gordon painted it himself, each room a different sky. The bedroom an ink-blue night sky with stars, the bathroom a sunrise, and the sitting room places us in blue skies!

Man, I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.

The pool is finished as well, as is the veranda where the wedding breakfast will take place after the ceremony near the water. Daddy will conduct the service. I think that, more than anything, pleases me the most. A minister’s child must make many sacrifices throughout her childhood, but this is a most precious reward. Almost worth the endless parade of hand-me-downs.

While Stan invited everybody, we have invited only the closest of friends and family. I know each of my aunts will arrive bearing some Hungarian dish for the reception, so I warned Peach ahead of time. He scratched his belly and said, “I’ve always wanted to learn to cook Hungarian.”

So that’s that.

The rehearsal dinner, just the wedding party and family, will be a crab feast on picnic tables near the water. I already ensured prime rib as an available option for Rawlins and Tacy, since they adopted the Old Testament dietary laws last fall. The steak will be well done, naturally. I hope this lifestyle at least makes them feel better about themselves. I mean, in the end, isn’t that what legalism is all about?

Daddy drains his mug. “I think I’m ready for bed now. I’m still not used to the layout, Lil. Will you guide me upstairs?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

I place our mugs in the sink and help him from the table. He begins to mumble a song, one we’ve sung together since I was a little girl.

“You can’t always get what you want.”

We stop at their bedroom door. “It’s true, Lil,” he says, still holding onto my arm. “You get what you need.”

“Some of us do anyway, Daddy.”

“Oh, I think we all do. One way or another.”

If this comforts him, so be it.

I kiss his cheek and guide him toward the bed. Mom has already laid out his pajamas. She’s sleeping.

One always takes a chance with an outdoor function. But as I sit here on the veranda with my morning cup of coffee, I am thankful many prayers have been answered. The normal Maryland humidity lies low. The breeze ruffles the treetops beneath a deep sky, and our rehearsal dinner is this evening.

Cristoff calls me on my cell phone. “I’m sitting out on my deck, drinking a cup of coffee in this gorgeous breeze. Where are you?”

“On the veranda doing the same.”

“Girlfriend, you couldn’t have special-ordered a more beautiful day, and the forecast promises the same all weekend long.”

I choose to believe the weatherman this time.

Cristoff bought a row house on Foster Avenue, a block down from Grandma Erzsèbet’s. He has no plans for the place, other than some cans of stark white paint and refinished floors. He’s already got a roommate, an eighty-two-year-old childless woman from the church on Erdman Avenue. He calls her Granny. You’ve got to love it.

He brings her flowers. She makes him soup and is already crocheting an afghan for his bed.

“You excited, sweetie?” he says.

“Honestly, honey, did you ever think this day would come?”

“I had my doubts.”

A kiss alights upon the back of my neck. Gordon. I turn and smile at him, mouthing the word, “Cristoff.”

“Tell him I said hi,” he whispers.

“Gordon says hi.”

“Hi, Gordon.”

“Hi, Gordon,” I say.

Gordon chuckles and walks into the kitchen. Probably to fix a cup of tea.

“So, you nervous?” Cristoff asks.

“I can’t believe she’ll be here in”—I check my watch—“three hours.”

“Me either. I’ve been praying all morning.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie. This is your time to shine. There are plenty of days ahead to worry about your sister.”

I can only hope that’s true.

I hold her to me tightly. “Oh, Tacy, Tacy.”

She laughs. “I’m here! I’m here! Rawlins was so nice to let me come after all that’s been going on.”

I let it slide. She doesn’t know the half of it. She doesn’t know who’s really being nice here. And right now she doesn’t need to. Let her enjoy some freedom.

She pulls away. “You look wonderful, Lillie. It’s amazing what love does for a woman.”

“You’re as pretty as ever.”

And I realize I can’t truthfully use the word beautiful anymore. She’s almost emaciated and her eyes shine like polished onyx.

“Let’s go try on your gown.”

Pleasance set up her machine at the kitchen table. She’s sewing a rolled hem around my veil. It’s a walking-length veil attached to a small rhinestone comb. The whole getup is simple elegance at its finest, bless her.

“Pleasance! Tacy’s ready for her fitting!”

Pleasance takes one look at my sister, spits a mouthful of pins into her hand and says, “Girlfriend, you are definitely
not
a size six!”

Tacy cries, “Oh no! Have I gained weight?”

Is she
serious?

“Hardly. Get over here, strip down to your underwear and we’ll take those measurements again. I have a feeling I’ll be sitting at this machine for a while.”

Tacy looks like she’s going to cry.

“It’s okay, baby doll,” Pleasance says. “I’m a whiz on this machine. Right, Lillie?”

“A downright whiz,” I say. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Tace. It’s all going to be great.”

Rawlins walks in. “Lillian.”

“Rawlins.” You creep.

“Congratulations on the forthcoming nuptials.”

Pleasance almost chokes.

“Thank you. We were just going to retake Tacy’s measurements. We think the gown will be too large for her.”

He sets down the car seat. Hannah must be sleeping. She’s swaddled in several receiving blankets, only her nose visible. I long to hold her, but I don’t dare ask.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “I already sent the measurements.”

“But Pleasance here is an expert seamstress. She took one look at her and said the gown will be much too big.”

“Your father told you the parameters of our agreement, did he not?”

“Yes, but the gown will be much too—”

“She wears it as is or she doesn’t wear it at all.”

“But Rawlins, this is my wed—”

“Let’s go, Anastasia.”

“Okay, okay. The gown stays as is.”

“Come with me outside, Anastasia. You’re finished in here.”

Tacy smiles at him. “All right, Rawlins.”

He leads the way, back turned to us. As Tacy passes by, she squeezes my shoulder twice, tighter than a death grip. But she continues on, saying nothing else.

“I’ll eyeball it, Lillie Pad. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

The whir of the machine follows me up to my room.

Later that night, at the crab feast, I sneak a peak at Hannah while Rawlins uses the restroom. I guess he couldn’t hold it any longer, because it’s the first time I know of he’s relieved himself since he arrived.

She still sleeps, and I swear they drugged the child or something. Around her mouth a bluish ring has formed, and her breath comes in raspy gasps.

I quickly replace the covers as they were and seek out Gordon. “Something must be done.”

“Let’s think on it, sweetheart. We’ll come up with a plan.”

As Tacy hugs me good-bye, she whispers, “No guard on tonight, back door unlocked,” in a quick burst.

If any doubt remained, it flies away. God has spoken through the lips of my sister.

“Family conference,” I whisper to Daddy as the last guest leaves. Of course, it includes Cristoff and Pleasance. We sit around the kitchen table, Philly fixing coffee and wiping down any horizontal surface. We’ll need her insight.

“Okay, let’s count the costs. We could lose the wedding tomorrow.” I look at Gordon.

“Tomorrow’s only a day, love. We’ll have plenty more.”

“Sure?”

He takes my hand.

“Okay.” The hall clock chimes ten deep bongs. “First of all, I’ll need a car seat.”

“I got it,” Cristoff says. “I passed an all-night Wal-Mart on my way here.”

“We need to make sure Rawlins will be sleeping. Or at least try.”

Mother says, “Two a.m. Any earlier and he may be up late working. Any later and he may be getting up early.”

“I agree.”

“Take your gun, Lil,” Daddy says.

“…”

“…”

“It was destroyed in the fire.”

“I have one,” Gordon says, voice quiet.

Wow. Now I’m really scared. Everything swells.

I clear my throat. “So, we should probably get them right to the hospital. Tacy looks starved, and if Hannah doesn’t have some kind of bronchial infection, I’d be shocked.”

“Your father and I will meet you there,” Mom says.

“Saint Joe’s will be closest.”

Mom nods.

“I’m up for another run, Lillie Pad,” Pleasance says.

“You go ahead on home to the boys, Pleasance.” I turn to Gordon. “You’ll go with me, won’t you?”

“You couldn’t tear me away, sweetheart.”

Just as I thought.

Cristoff rises from his chair. “I’ll go get the car seat. And some baby blankets.”

“Get some formula and bottles, too,” Mom says.

Cristoff turns.

“Hold on a minute, Gilbert, son,” Daddy says. “I wasn’t a priest for that many years to think we can do this alone. Let’s pray together and may God go with us all, especially Lillie and Gordon.”

I want to break down. I want to heave my sobs upon the table. But I can’t.

I won’t.

24

Lillie

One a.m. already and I’m shaking.

The car seat Cristoff rushed out to buy is strapped into the backseat of the Volvo. Three blankets and a cooler holding a bottle lie ready. Gordon’s gun sits in its case on the floor. Cleaned and loaded.

“I went by the old lot and cut this for you.” Cristoff hands me a stem of Grandma Erzsèbet’s Nightmare, the end wrapped in a moist paper towel and tinfoil.

“It’s still there?”

“Yeah, it sure is. But they’re clearing the lot next week. Grandma E would want to come along.”

As we climb into the car, dew already moist on the ground, I touch the branch on the console beside me. I recall Mom all those years ago traveling across the border. I think of Grandma Erzsèbet and even Tacy. Two hard squeezes. No guard tonight. And I pray.

I click the gearshift into drive. “Ready, Gordon?”

“Yes, Lillie.”

“Did you ever think you’d find yourself in a situation like this?”

“Not for a minute.”

Somehow, deep in my mind, I always knew I’d be called upon for something bold and scary. If tonight isn’t that time, I’m in trouble.

I cut the engine as soon I think the car will drift up to the house. The farmhouse has never looked so impenetrable before. A strong wind has arisen and the humidity floats on the darkness. Gordon readies the pistol. “I’ll stand guard on the deck.”

“Okay.” I turn off the inner lights. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

We open our doors and climb out, each foot tenderly meeting the drive. After opening the back door and pressing down the lock, I ready the belts of the car seat. We leave our doors ajar and locked as well. Just a quick slip over the tiny head, a snap of the buckle, and we’ll be on our way.

Although I delicately place each foot on the gravel, each footstep thunders into the darkness. My heartbeat thrums a loud bass beat. I feel like walking noise. My lungs begin to constrict and I pray the wheezing won’t give me away.

I place a hand on Gordon’s arm and reach into my pocket. He stops as I puff on my inhaler. Dear God, don’t let me get lightheaded, please. We wait several seconds, then continue forward again.

The back door is unlocked as promised. I don’t know how she managed it. The hood light shines above the range. All is spotless, shining, and looking new. Antiseptic and chilling. I picture the church ladies going about their ministrations, the new housekeeper cooking meals, all their voices hushed in reverence to Rawlins McGovern, or more to the point, Pastor Alban Cole. The grim face of the preacher comes to mind.

We can do this.

I turn back and look at Gordon standing by the door, gun in his hand. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. No one should.

I start to negotiate the back stairs leading up next to Hannah’s bedroom, placing a ginger foot on the first step.

Praying, praying. Dear God, let me do this. Help me do this.

I tread up the steps in my sneakers, black clothes hopefully rendering me invisible. I can’t believe I’m here doing this. Give me strength.

The door stands open. A baby monitor glows on the changing table and in the corner, the ghost-white figure of my sister sits in the rocking chair.

She rises, completely dressed. “We’re ready,” she whispers.

I simply nod. Feeling my lungs constrict at the apprehension, choosing now to breathe instead of whisper. My wheeze scrapes the silence.

“She’s ready.” Tacy barely breathes the words and reaches down into the crib. She hands me the limp, almost lifeless form of her child. Hannah Grace’s breathing is so shallow and exhausted she doesn’t waken.

Oh, God, she’s so beautiful. Help us help her. Help me help them.

As I take the little body, a rattle falls out of the folds of the blanket.

No!

“Anastasia!”

No! No!

“Go!” she hisses. “Go!”

“Anastasia!”

“It’s just me, Rawlins!”

Panicked, I bolt down the darkened staircase, caring little about noise now, hearing commotion behind me.

Go, Lillie. Go. Go. Go. Get out of here.

Through the kitchen door and halfway down the deck steps, I hear Rawlins yell, “Stop!”

But I don’t. I can’t. I’m propelled by something bigger than myself. Something that rests inside us all.

I run past Gordon. “Now, Gordon! Hurry!”

Gordon follows, his limping gait slowing him down.

I lay Hannah on the car seat and buckle her in. Her eyes open wide.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s Aunt Lillie, dear. Only Aunt Lillie.”

She gasps a raspy breath, and her face screws up.

Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I know it will set off a coughing fit.

Gordon catches up and I reach in to stroke her face. “It’s okay, baby.”

Rawlins is off the deck now, thundering toward the car. “Stop or I’ll shoot, Lillian!”

I slam the door and start to climb in.

Rawlins catches up with me. “No!”

“Oh yes.”

“No.” And his fist slams into my jaw. I reel back as he goes for the handle of Hannah’s door.

I kick out and my foot finds the soft spot of his groin. He cries out, doubles over, and I slide in, shut the door as Gordon follows suit.

Throw the car into reverse.

Back out, gravel flying, and I’m tearing down the driveway.

Oh, Tacy! What will become of you?

“What’s happening behind us, Gordon?”

“He’s shoving Tacy into the Rover.”

And his pursuit begins, tires spinning, gears raging.

Thank God for a car that hugs the road.

“Hang on, Gordon.”

I peel out onto Jarrettsville Pike, wishing this was a manual transmission, but the turbo kicks in, and we shoot forward like a rocket. Hannah begins to cry.

“I’ll climb in the back,” Gordon says.

“How?”

“Watch this. It’ll be all right, Lillie. We have her.” He pulls up his pant leg and unhooks the prosthesis.

We race on the night wind, Hannah’s cries picking up speed as Gordon climbs in the back.

“Buckle in! I’m about to make a quick turn.”

Darn this automatic transmission! I want to downshift! Downshift!

I brake heavily and turn down a small road. Can I lose him?

Headlights round the corner after me.

“How’s the baby?”

“I gave her that bottle.”

“She shouldn’t drink lying down.”

“Lillie!”

He’s right.

Engine roaring, I thrust forward down the dark country road. I think all sorts of thoughts. We needed Tacy here to make this work. We needed the word of the mother, we needed to know she was on board. Oh, I can see it now. Mrs. Mannequin standing there, nodding to the police, agreeing with Mr. Monster that I kidnapped their child. It doesn’t matter now. I need to get her to Saint Joe’s, but I need to lose him first. He’ll never let me in the door of that hospital if he can help it.

Rawlins would rather die first.

There’s a thought.

Soon I turn on the road surrounding Loch Raven Reservoir, famous for its twists and turns. Surely I’ll lose his clunky Range Rover here. The dark is so peaceful, and no cars witness our chase scene.

“How close is he, Gordon?”

“He’s keeping up.”

“I’m going as fast as I can and still be safe.”

“Go faster.”

That’s all the encouragement I need.

I brake and accelerate, brake and accelerate, and here it comes, the worst hairpin of them all. The ravine beside us falls dark and deep, a steep, wooded drop to the water below.

“What’s happening, Gordon?”

“I can’t see.”

A car approaches. Probably some kids out too late. Lord, let’s hope they’re not drunk. And their high beams are on. I press on the brakes as they blind me temporarily.

“I can see her! She’s fighting him! She’s hitting him around his face!”

I look in my rearview mirror.

“She’s grabbing the steering wheel.”

Time quagmires and their car lurches and swerves as Rawlins tries to right the vehicle.

“She’s hanging on. Darn. I can’t see anything now!”

The Rover lurches again, bucks and sways and swerves and hangs in suspension, then tumbles into the ravine.

Oh, dear God. Dear God.

I brake, skidding to a halt. Slamming the car into park. “Stay with Hannah, Gordon!”

In the dimness below, the white Rover lies belly up. I skid down the slope. The driver’s side is pinned against a tree.

“Tacy!”

But no answer comes from my sister. Only Rawlins’s cry, “Help us!” bleeds into the darkness. He screams and screams and screams. Branches and brush scrape my face and hands and I dive toward the ground.

Oh, Tacy. God, help me get to her. Get me to that little girl with the blond braids who begged me year after year to let her play Mom in “the bicycle game.” There we’d be, flying down the path between the house and rectory, the house Hungary, the rectory Austria. Standing up, I’d pedal like mad while she held on tightly to the seat with her small hands, eyes as big as baseballs. But she wouldn’t yell in fright. Not Tacy.

But she took that ride tonight. She told me when to come and I followed her lead and felt her strength.

Tacy

You’re here now, Lillie. Oh, you’re here!

She’s looking at me. I want to tell her it’s okay. But I’m leaving and I cannot stop myself now. I’m almost finished.

Lillie

I belly up to the window and in the moonlight I see her, neck at an impossible angle, eyes open, seeing nothing.

No!

I smell smoke.

“Lillie!” Rawlins screams. “You’ve got to get me out of here! My legs are pinned.”

“Tacy’s dead.”

“Help me, please. This car is going to explode.”

I can’t. I can’t.

I feel my head shaking at him.

“No, Lillie! Don’t do this!”

“Tacy’s dead!” I am frozen.

“Dear God, help me! Please, Lillie.”

“My sister is
dead!
”

“Please!”

“The car is going to explode. Your door is up against a tree.”

I double around to Tacy’s side, and God help me, I open her door and climb in to retrieve the monster. I pull and pull. “I can’t! I’ll call 911.”

“No!” he screams. “Don’t leave me!”

Smoke begins to thicken the air. My own voice screams inside my head. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

I peer into the dead face of my sister one last time.

Oh, God. I didn’t want it to end like this. You know I didn’t!

“Don’t leave me! Please!”

I slide back and scrabble up the bank, feet pedaling on the decaying leaves. I run across the asphalt. “Gordon, call 911!” And as I open my door, the explosion rocks me. There’s the rhododendron branch. O Tacy, Tacy.

I reach in, grab it, and hurl it down onto the flaming mass.

Hannah starts choking on the formula.

“We’ve got to get her to the hospital, Lillie.” Gordon’s voice brings me home.

No time to watch it burn. No time. No time.

Back in my seat, I jam down the accelerator and leave my sister behind.

Tacy

It’s finished. It’s finally over. I can leave now, Jesus. He’s gone.

Lillie

I punch 01 into the cell phone. Mom, already waiting at Saint Joe’s, answers Gordon’s phone. “You got them?”

“Just Hannah. She’s in bad shape.”

“I’ll tell the team to be ready for her. Tacy?”

“Mom, you’re breaking up. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up. I can’t tell her. Not now. I punch the accelerator to the floor and mutter mumbled, senseless prayers. It’s all I can do.

Gordon’s holding Hannah now, rubbing her tiny back, doing all he can to make the coughing stop.

I’m dying inside. We’ve saved her. But at what expense?

“Lillie?”

“She was already dead, Gordon. Broken neck.”

“So she didn’t know what hit her.”

“I hope so.”

We are silent for a while. Finally he speaks from there in the backseat, his voice so far away. “You know she would have gladly sacrificed herself for this child. I think your sister was stronger than she appeared.”

“She died fighting.”

She exceeded our expectations. Maybe we all did tonight.